:: Sunday, November 12, 2006

YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD SPACEMAN

back when I was a kid, I would often believe I was some kinda space alien.. as according to my midget logic I clearly wasn't normal and therefore wasn't of this earth.. I thought differently, I spoke differently (quite often in a series of burps, clicks and intestinal grunts) and chances were that I had thus been implanted here in human form upon this fucked up arse stain of a planet by some distant, quite possibly benevolent (but most likely manevolent) alien race in effort to report back on the daily goings on of this ere "PLANET EARTH".. and there I'd be, each night reporting back and detailing to my faraway brethren the inner nuances of all the unintelligible life forms here.. their MICKY D's monoculture, their disorganised religions and wearing of silly hats and pretty much everything else upto their kaliedoscopic selection of lunch meats.. I mean shit.. you freaks all know me NOW as an adult and I'm weird enough as it is.. can you just IMAGINE how fucking weird and goofy I was as a kid? (the mind boggles) yeah.. so although I may've since learnt that this whole "dude feel like a space monkey" thing is just a phase we all go thru at least once in our lives and since grow out of.. I still sometimes find myself returning to this concept later in adult life.. not often mind you.. just occassionally on the weekends.. and especially on THIS particular weekend..

yup.. if you think my usual misadventures in the Adelaide music scene are fucked up alien retarded as it is.. just wait till you see this weekend.. it will make you feel like you're from another planet ;)


THURSDAY NIGHT
tonight I'm here at the stinky 'ol GRACE EMILY on WAYMOUTH ST at 10:30PM to see TRIXIE PLAIN.. as you can quite clearly see written on this lunchboard type menu thingy out front if you squint really hard (or if me and my shitty camera didn't quite nearly suck as much at focusing on simple stationary objects.. HA!)



TRIXIE PLAIN
now normally it'd take quite an exceptional band to drag me out've the house at this retarded hour on a weeknight when there's all manner of other dumb shit I'd rather be watching on the idiot box (or sneakingly downloading off the internet - 3RD season of LOST heeere we come!) but since it's TRIXIE PLAIN.. fuckit.. obviously I'm here because of all the free beer they're bribing me with.. *ahem* :)



of course the other reason for my attendance (besides them getting some convenient public exposure on my stinkhole of a blog) is so they can capture the epic stadium sound of 100's of screaming fans in audience for their professional multi channel live recording tonight (as tinkered on masterfully here by DAN WALFORD) and as anyone in ANY live gig audience in metropolitan Adelaide knows.. if you ever need a hairy dickhead to yell stupid shit and otherwise woop it up like a retarded baboon at yer gig.. then SPOZ be yer monkey! ;)



to see TRIXIE PLAIN play live (as fronted by lead vocalist and drummer W SHANE FORSTER) could easily be considered equal parts pissy smashoff, a violent outbreak of tourette's syndrome and a comedy routine..



driven by the shredding guitars of COLONEL LINDOG and the intestinal bass flatulence of TODD SMILEY MAN.. they continually redefine the twilight zone between the sounds of a violent lung infection and a car-crash..



whilst occassionally plumbing the more noodingly stoner territories of bands like PAVEMENT.. or wot'ever else fuckarse obscure bands my older brother used to collect like a packrat back in the mid 90's (SPARKLEHORSE? SWERVEDRIVER? BUCKET BONG? fucked if I know, they all sounded the same to me.. hahahahaha!)



and yet, for all their brown fuzzing stonerisms, W SHANE FORSTER's endless screaming over ferocious drums and their bizarre musical interludes.. such as this baffling performance featuring what appeared to be either MARK LANEGAN from the SCREAMING TREES or a heroin addict (but is in fact LINDOG's cousin) reciting mumbling lyrics from a script for a fucked up little deconstructed punk jam called "FLICK".. they never fail to be a hilariously entertaining to watch, even on a lazy THURSDAY night such as this.. ROCK :)



and as I drain the last stolen tinny of DR TIMS from their beer esky, another 45 minute set of TRIXIE PLAIN's domestic disturbance draws to a close and I vanish off into the inky blackness of the night..



oh, and for all of those trainspotters out there who are wondering why I didn't catch THE DARDENELLES, TIC TOC TOKYO and THE CITY RIOTS playing tonight at ROCKET BAR.. duuuuude, I wish! but I was doing my best to save my cash (as I'm attempting to raise funds for an interstate trip next Saturday), but if you DID happen to go and better yet, have any shiny photo's.. lemme know how it all went down? cheers :)


FRIDAY NIGHT
today I wake up feeling like nothing short of crap.. surprisingly its NOT a hangover, but a pesky little nose goblin that's been lurking in the wings since my wacky misadventures LAST weekend (damn you $12.50 shots! DAMN YOU TO HELL!!) and the 48 hours of insomnia it required of me to write it all up afterwards.. ack! conveniently of course (being as it is the master of good timing) it chooses today of all days to attack me.. as I float around the house with a head full of fever, coughing up lungfulls of green cheese..

most sane people would take this as a sign to stay home, put their feet up, read a good book, soak up some chicken soup, top up their vitamins and do all that other cliche crap you see in cartoons and sitcoms.. but clearly I'm NOT that person, I've never BEEN that person and clearly I'm quite barkingly INSANE.. and so I'm on the 8:30PM bus into the city, staggering deleriously into the CRANKA for happy hour at 9PM.. downing two foaming brews, before finally arriving in a collapsing feverish puddle at the JADE MONKEY at 10PM..



I didn't really have a plan tonight, but I knew I sure as hell didn't wanna stay home, nor waste $15 on a movie.. as I found (quite curiously) that if you catch one of these viruses at JUST the right time.. you can actually quite effectively kill them off with a distracting dose of beer and live music.. yeah, I know.. there's NO logic in that reasoning.. but bare with me here.. this shit HAS worked before :)

LOVE STEREO
and so, the first band up for this evening.. LOVE STEREO..



now I could (as I usually do) go in depth on all that is LOVE STEREO.. what they sound like, their possible influences, crack some lamearse jokes about band members I wouldn't normally know the names of if I didn't otherwise cheat them off of their MYSPACE site.. but since the first two doses of PALE ALE have yet to work their mojo on my system.. all my virus addled brain can think, roughly translates to the following..

"GURGLE FOAM.. SPLAT.. GRUMBLE FOAM DRIBBLE.. HICCUP.. STAIN.. COUGH!"



but from what the exceptionally exciteable (and quite possibly twitchingly drunk) bass player LUKE from MR WEDNESDAY keeps telling me tonight.. these waftingly melancholic fuzz puppets of symphonic pop are absolutely tops, and quite possibly the best thing he's seen all year (but y'know.. imagine if you're being told that by someone using many more expletives and the sort've twitchy demeanor that makes you think he'll pick a fight with you outside if you disagree.. if, he didn't fall over in the process ;) )

(oh yeah, he's gonna kill me now for sure for making that shit up.. hahahaha)



still, as much sensory imput as my virus addled brain will let in past all the blurriness and headspins.. these dudes are pretty damn cool.. reminding me somewhat of the layered sound of THE DOVES.. niiice! :)

POLY & THE STATICS
and now with the first band done, it's time for my 3rd round of medicine.. as administered by ZAC the psychic bartender (seriously, even before I even ask, he's delivering up a frosty beer he's got hidden under the bar for me.. whoaaa trippy!), as the next band, POLY AND THE STATICS fire up the PA..



now as much as I always enjoy the wacky circus antics of frenetic WIGGLES energy that POLY AND THE STATICS fart up on stage.. I've always been in two minds over their somewhat schitzophrenic sound..



as most of their gig falls quite happily into that fuckoff indie scenster buzz of layered machine gun guitars, idiot shriekings and spiky dancepunk metronome drumming that'd drive any pisshead into a frenzy of dancefloor epilepsy (hey, whaddya know!? that 3rd beer's just the cure I needed! WAHOOOOO!!)



and hey, call me crazy and beat me senseless around the head with a freeze-dried squirrel, but I happen to dig that wacky post punk UK indie scenster shred vibe all those 80's hipster tragics are into these days..



but it's this other wacky sound they're occassionally known to cough up, this crazy channeling of WEEZER, BEN FOLDS or the mid 60's shiny pop of THE BEATLES before they got into all the psychedelic shit (as channeling so effectively in their song "MAKE ME A WOMAN" - that sounds like a whiny multi-octave "happy go lucky" yodel by way of the acoustic sounds of THE ARCTIC MONKEYS) that really makes me wanna dive off the nearest cliff, screaming and on fire, than endure in large doses.. AAAUAUAUAGGGHH!!!



dont get me wrong.. I STILL downloaded that song from THE SANDWICH CLUB (check out the site, it rocks!) coz hey, what can I say, I'm often-times a collector of the brain damaging tune.. but duuuude.. that shit could be considered even too nasty for torturing IRAQI prisoners in ABU GRAIHB with.. eeeeeesh ;)



thankfully tho'.. tonight's set from the "P-STICKS" (I wonder if that'll catch on?) is nothing short of spiky, shredding, gnashing, bleedingly loud and shambolically screaming into the red brilliance.. or, as my brain roughly translated it into on the night.. "DUUUUDES, THIS SHIT SO FREAKING ROCKS!! WOOOOO!!"



oh, and if you wanna see something real trippy.. check out the wacky new clip they cooked up for their single CHAINSAW (amazing what you can do with ZERO budget and a camcorder these days.. woooo! :) )



UNSPOKEN THINGS
and now that the P-STICKS have finished for the night, and after I've sourced round 4 of my miracle cure from the bar "duuuude *hic* I fleeel gleat!!" it's time for the headliners, UNSPOKEN THINGS to hit the stage..



apparently tonight's their CD LAUNCH.. not just for some pissy little EP like everyone else seems to be doing around these parts of late (seriously, is it just me, or is EVERY monkey having a LAUNCH this spring!?)



but a CD LAUNCH to celebrate their 2ND album.. yup, SECOND freaking album!! sheeeit.. I didn't even know these monkeys had a first.. then again.. seriously, what the hell WOULD I know? I just take photo's and drink an inordinate amount of beer anywaze (and you call ME a reliable source on the Adelaide scene ;) )



but anywaze, for all of you who arrived late.. UNSPOKEN THINGS could best be described as sounding like THE DOORS.. y'know.. 60's band? JIM MORRISON? "BREAK ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE"!!??, "C'MON BABY LIGHT MY FIRE"?? all the wacky public urination? witchcraft? the psychedelic drugs? stoner keyboard solos? that OLIVER STONE movie with VAL KILMER in it? yeah.. y'know it.. THE DOORS!! THE DOOORS!!

waaait.. why is he looking at me like that? *gulp* mommy!?



yeah y'see.. I just read an interview that night they did for the local street press (RIP IT UP? dB? fucked if I could remember) where keyboardist JAMIE WOOLAWAY (and unholy demon spawn.. just LOOK at that evil eye.. AAAAUUGGGHH!!) emphatically stating that he hates THE DOORS, is sick to death of being compared with THE DOORS.. and if he hears ANOTHER freaking jackass of a journalistic hack out there reference THE DOORS and UNSPOKEN THINGS in the same sentence and even dare consider a similarity, he may just go insane and explode (or, scratching that.. he'll just send the drummer here to hang outside your bedroom window looking all creepy n shit whilst yer trying to sleep till YOU go insane and kill y'self.. AAUUGGH!!)



and obviously that's just a big red button waiting for me to push innit? lets try it again shall we? DOORS DOORS DOORS DOORS WAAAAUAGHH!! DOOORS!! (yes, I'm officially 2 years old :) ) but seriously.. the only part of this band that actually sounds like THE DOORS (ha! I did it again!!) would be the wacky keyboard solos and the vocals (and quite possibly all the drugs and witchcraft the keyboardist dabbles in, don't say yer straight-edge.. NOBODY BELIEVES YOU!!) but besides that, they sound nothing like "that band" and I'd personally compare them more closely with the mid 70's blues sound of PINK FLOYD.. think the album "WISH YOU WERE HERE" and you wouldn't be far off.. damn cool shit too.. if yer into that kinda buzz ;)



as for their headlining set? yeaaaah it was kinda tripped out.. dug the double percussive storm they fired up with the drummer from POLY AND THE STATICS, dug the noodling psychedelics and 70's bong smoke keyboard vibes.. and although the acoustic weirdness near the end went perhaps a bit too long.. overall, with the crowds here packing to the walls and climbing up to the ceiling it was mad buzz.. ROCK :)



and now with the bands done for the night and the time ticking well past midnight, the beer gardens overflow with the clinking wreckage of brown bottles and the wafting exhaust of wookie green smoke..



which of course is having NO effect on my brain what-so-ever.. *ahem* (yes, I AM an idiot!)



where I take a moment to get a shot with "FAKE HEATH" (an inside joke that'll perhaps only be appreciated by the 5 people in the Adelaide music scene who still know who YOUR MOTIVE FOR are.. hehehe ;) )



before flying out've the JADE MONKEY like a retarded baboon at 1AM..



arriving at my usual smellyarse dive for the last drinks of the night.. which appears spookingly near empty tonight, as those all too familiar blue fluorescent lights that we all know and love (like the bone cancer they'll probably give us in 20-30 years time) have blown out earlier tonight, thus driving away all the usual bar flies and fluttering moths that feel so weirdly drawn here on the weekends to soak up beer ;)



and since I don't wanna push the limits of my crazy reverse-logic "alcohol remedy" tonight, I decide to join them, making for an early one, as I head off home at the insanely uncharacteristic hour of 2AM..


SATURDAY NIGHT
today I wake up dead, feeling even more crap then I did yesterday.. WHAT WAS I THINKING!??.. except no wait I didn't.. whoaaaa! yup, against all logic (and all the accumilated literature amassed by the medical profession to refute my claims) it appears all the beers and me running around like a retarded fool the night before actually worked wonders to help clear up that head cold.. yeah I know! what the FUCK is up with that!!?? sure.. I didn't exactly sleep well and I had this fucked up dream that started off as a band meeting with MUNCHKIN on a freeway and ended up with me lost in a jumble of apocalyptic ruins near a beach, whilst fuckoff aggressive STEALTH BOMBER UFO's crossed with 1950's silver JUMBO JETS did dive bomber runs inches away from my face (feel free to work that one out) but I wake up today feeling kickarse.. freaaaaky!

which is just as well, considering what I have in store for me tonight.. a night so freakingly diabolical it'd damn near kill any lesser idiot who'd dare attempt it.. and yet once again, I'M just the idiot to do it ;)

and so, for the first location tonight, I arrive here at the ENIGMA BAR at 9PM..



SOFT WHITE MACHINE
as I'm here to see SOFT WHITE MACHINE, the 1st support band for THE BLACK DOVES CD LAUNCH tonight, fresh from their gig playing in support of SNAP TO ZERO's CD LAUNCH just last weekend.. *phew*.. so many damn CD launches this year.. so little space left in my house to store all these frisbees (seriously, can't you monkeys just do MP3 launches from now on? yer killing me with the avalanche here! ;) )



and tonight they're shredding it up like a mexican firing squad.. as KARL with his tiny twirly aeroplane instrument and ANDREAS the floppy haired stoner cut up a furious assault of shredding guitars..



whilst JETT amazes all with his brown note pendulum bass guitar grooves as he rocks it out like a shoeless derelict of hair helmet funk (those dudes from KINGS OF LEON could learn a thing or two..)



and punctuated throughout by the octopus percussive rhythms of NICK the beatnick drummer.. scaring all manner of simpleton freaks and dribbling baboons in the crowd with the fury of his radioactive red drumkit..



as they continue to forge their own freakish musical path, combining all the wackiness of a B-GRADE spaghetti western soundtrack with the raw manevolent chugging attack of TOOL and A PERFECT CIRCLE..



and you can tell these monkeys have been locked in the studio for the last month or so coming up with new and diabolical ways to fuck our brains with, coz tonight they're at the top of their game.. like whoa maaaan.. there was this bit in "BROKEN ARROW" tonight, where they pulled off this freaky syncopated attack between guitar riffs, bass chug and swinging beats.. and I dunno if it was an accident, me having an aneurysm or what (and there's no way I can do justice in describing it) but whoaaa, if you could replicate THAT in the studio recording.. AUSTRALIA could triple it's birth rate in under a year.. weeeeeeee! :)



although they may've taken all of this a little TOO far in the end, when KARL and ANDREAS find themselves inexcricably drawn to yet another one of their bizarre riffing guitar mating rituals.. sure, it's nowhere near as creepy and awkward as watching LEE and MATT from TONY FONT SHOW do the happy dance on stage and get all "lost in the moment".. but yeeeeeesh, seriously.. dudes.. GET A ROOM!



and as another SOFT WHITE MACHINE set draws to a close and the stage (and a large number of the audience standing out front) are hosed off in the decontamination showers.. it's time to switch venues..

arriving here at ROCKET BAR at 10:30PM, just in time for CENTRAL DELI BAND's set tonight.. or at least that's we originally planned until after prompting from COREY the bassplayer, I finally bothered to check my phone and got this text - "we are on at 11PM now dude.. does that still work?"



*SHIT!*

and so we're off to switch venues again, arriving at JIVE in time to catch BOB LOG THE 3RD..



BOB LOG III
and yup, that'd be him.. the one man band performing freakshow extraordinaire that be BOB LOG THE 3RD.. I was told this guy would be like a diabolical mix between QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE, EAGLES OF DEATH METAL and DEATH FROM ABOVE 1979 as performed by one guy, dressed as a daredevil in a spacehelmet, singing thru phone receiver and jamming out song after song of whisky stained booty shaking grooves on slide guitar, crash cymbal and kickdrum.. he'd played here countless times before and had one helluva reputation for A-GRADE gonzo fueled freakiness (just ask his fans about the infamous "BOOB SCOTCH" incident if you really wanna melt your brain..) and FINALLY, after all these years.. I would get the chance to see the dude in action.. OOOOHYEAAAH!! UNLEASH THE INSAAAANITY!! :)



so there he is propped between a kickdrum, a floor cymbal and bashing out these songs that sounded like a mix between a crazy busker jam and THE JOHN SPENCER BLUES EXPLOSION with a slide guitar and this funny scratchy little american accent coming thru the phone receiver.. sure it's kinda cool, the crowd is PACKED OUT to the ceiling, and the chicks are really going freaking nuts to his tunes.. but after a few songs in.. I'm thinking.. "yeah, ok.. I get it already.. so what's with all the freaking hype eh?"



and so at about 11:30PM, thinking I'd seen all there was to BOB LOG III, I headed back to ROCKET BAR..



CENTRAL DELI BAND
charging upstairs I find CENTRAL DELI BAND in full swing, as they run around like smack addict toddlers dosed up on too much red food colouring, with lead singer MATT HAYWARD here entertaining one of his many exciteable female groupies on stage with his signature singing style, sounding somewhere between JOHNNY CASH on an acid trip and HUMPHREY B BEAR being hit in the groin with a nailgun.. eeeeeouch!



TIM WHITT the guitarist is seemingly lost in a world of his own and inexplicably dressed as a pirate.. whether he's trying to be a sea pirate or a jungle pirate is really upto anyone's interpretation and also somewhat dependant on how many recreational drugs you've ingested during the 1st half of their set..



COREY the bass player, as always, is doing his best to hide out at the back of the stage and quite possibly thinking "if only I stand here motionless for long enough and strum the same bass chord over and over.. SPOZ wont notice I'm here and wont get a photograph of me doing anything stupid..".. ooops, too late! :)



whilst TIM teams up with LUKE EYGANRAAM for a tag-team screaming fit as the sound of 1000 geese explode around their ears (brought to you by whatever weirdarse synth noise is looping around my ears right now)



pretty much the entire band takes turns on the drums (and every other instrument they can get their hands on), so it's hard to tell what the fuck is going on half the time.. but I believe this is JIMMY BEANO, either butchering up a POLKA beat or punching out japanese swear words in morse code..



yeah ok, sorry.. I'm kinda starting in the middle here aren't I? so for all of you who are late to the party and have NO CLUE what the fuck I'm on about here.. I spose an introduction is in order.. this is CENTRAL DELI BAND.. they like to think of themselves as some kinda electro mashup act.. mixing up the sounds of THE GO! TEAM, the first two albums of GERLING, THE AVALANCHES and PRINCE.. and crapping out gold..



or a more accurate description is to think of them as existing somewhat between a violent explosion in a toystore, a community theatre group on acid, smashing the fuck out've your ipod with a hammer and a nervous breakdown and STILL crapping out gold.. as every band member swaps instruments with frequent irregularity, band members appear on stage and then disappear.. it could be a 4 piece, a 6 piece or a free-for-all.. nobody freaking knows.. songs (if you could call them that) twitch around in all manner of broken loops, hammering synths, retarded screamings, slap happy guitar riffs and fuckoff nutty broken hiphop breaks.. sure, it may sound like a fucking disaster, but oooooooooh FUCK DOES IT ROCK :)



and although chances are every circus freak in Adelaide has appeared on stage with these maniacs at least ONCE (if not twice), tonight it's the turn of this particular lunatic vocalist, LANCE LAZER THE AMAZER..



and before you start thinking that's just some wacky getup he's wearing tonight and that's GOTTA be a wig.. oooooh NO kiddies.. I've seen this same maniac as a frequent lurker at LADY STRANGELOVE gigs and he dresses like that ALL the time.. yup, he may be a glamrock disaster 24 hours a day and 7 days a week, and he may shriek it out like JUSTIN HAWKINS with his nuts in a vice.. but duuuuude.. ROCK!! :)



it's of course at about this juncture, as happens near the end of EVERY one of CENTRAL DELI BAND shows that things invariably go pear shaped.. as after yet another one of MATT HAYWARD's rampages thru the crowd.. I somehow find myself thrown up on stage myself flapping about like a hairy loon with a tamborine smashing out a retarded rhythm.. I really have no freaking clue HOW I ended up as a participant in this circus (again!) but for all of you out there who were (un)lucky to witness my antics.. I hope it proved as enjoyable to you as it was confusing for me.. coz thanks to a conveniently timed electromagnetic pulse in the atmosphere above, there was NO photographic evidence for this blog (at least not yet there isn't ;) )



with the time creeping near 11:50PM, and with CENTRAL DELI BAND done for the night (after the riot police were called in to empty out the stage with tear gas grenades), I make my way back to JIVE to see what BOG LOG III is upto.. conveniently finding him here, fueling up at the bar just before his encore finale..



meanwhile an inflatable dingy makes an appearances from backstage, held aloft by members of SWAYBACK (who played here earlier tonight) and then sent adrift across a sea of churning drunks..



BOB LOG III makes his way thru the seething crowd towards it..



jumps on in, as the crowd around him manages to launch the whole thing in the air..



and watch with eyes falling out've your skull, as the inflatable craft is carried over a sea of hands with BOB LOG III, jamming up a crazyarse whisky groove back n forth thru the crowd.. like whoaaa dude.. ROCK!! :)



and yet as insane as this may look, I just missed a stunt he pulled earlier tonight, where he managed to get a chick from the audience to flop one of her boobs out and dip it into a pie floater whilst he played a song (GRRRR DAMMIT!!) yup, chances are this all went down during my CENTRAL DELI BAND stage invasion too.. oh well.. guess you can't win them all when you're hitting up 3 lives gigs at once in one night :)

THE BLACK DOVES
speaking of such, it's past 12AM and time I should get back to ENIGMA to catch the THE BLACK DOVES..



arriving just in time for the 2nd song of their set.. with the venue packed out with all manner of theatrical geeks, goths, emo tragics, vampires, caberet disasters and fashion exhibitionists all hovering around the front of stage like a flesh eating hoard of zombies to absorb the headling act tonight.. eeeee!



as they gnash out their stabby stabby electro goth love pop with knives (or if you're not already familiar with THE BLACK DOVES.. just think ATARI TEENAGE RIOT mixed with MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE, THE MAVISES, NINE INCH NAILS and a highschool ROCK EISTEDDFOD killing spree and you wouldn't be too far off ;) )



watch as guitarist SCOTT IBBETSON butchers that guitar within an inch of his life.. who's still surprisingly coherant at flailing that instrument, despite the apparent gashing injury to his head.. weeeeee!



MARIO SPATE's puncturing a lung or two whilst strangling that microphone within an inch of IT'S life..



and as much as I'd wanna make a really clever joke about bassist CHRIS BROWN and his wacky FRED FLINTSTONE antics here.. it's 8:53AM as I'm writing this.. I've been up writing this rubbish since 11PM the night before and I'm dribblingly incoherant within an inch of my OWN life here.. so fuckit, why dont YOU go make some shit up? (dont worry, you've read enough of these, I'm sure you'll think of something ;) )



meanwhile.. MARIO (somewhat inspired by KARL and ANDREAS' exciteable guitar antics earlier this evening) decides to have at it with his own brand of sexual misconduct upon SCOTTY the guitarist (sheeesh, and he does this wacky shit at every freaking gig too) as he mugs him into a headlock embrace..



tag-team vocalist KATE JAY ends up on the speaker stacks during their stabbing electro goth rendition of N.E.R.D's "TRUTH OR DARE", thrashing it out like a cross between a howling banshee and a broken car alarm, and damn near bleaching everyone's hair white and tearing up the ceiling tiles in the process..



MARIO totally loses his shirt and shit on stage during the final skull crushing and ear bleeding encore, and no sooner than you can say "STAGE INVASION"..



before half the audience finds itself up on stage with the band in a jumbled mess fucking shit up all over the walls and ceilings in a mess of arms and legs.. as yes.. thanks to ANDREAS from SOFT WHITE MACHINE who has conveniently klepto'd my camera for the occassion.. that'd be ME up there in the middle going spastic with the juggling sticks for my 2ND stage invasion of the night (next time, I'm gonna paint "SOY BOMB" on my chest and do this shit for real.. BWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)



yup, those BLACK DOVES really know how to throw a launch party is style.. eeeee! :)

*phew*.. and there we have it.. 2 stage invasions, one space freak crowd surfing a dingy and I've done enough venue swapping and alcohol abuse to kill an elephant.. I dunno how the fuck I've survived all this retardation tonight, but to celebrate the accumulative brain damage of the entire experience.. after THE BLACK DOVES set I find myself downstairs goosing it up with these fine grinning fools, SHIRALEE and MADAME CASS to CRAIG ARMSTRONG's cheesy glamrock / hairmetal DJ set as we trash the dancefloor in style :)



with 2AM swinging by (being the freerange space-cadet that I am) I finally make my leave and I head to the next venue.. waving goodbye to the friendly acid spitting, chest bursting xenomorph as I depart..



as I make my way down to the east end for my usual end of SATURDAY NIGHT roundtrip.. dropping off first for THE CRANKA.. which, since the blue bug zappers are STILL out since last night, is whistling on empty..

*YAWN* "duuude.. where the fuck IS everybody?"



before heading to SHOTZ.. where all manner of cheerful retardation took place.. details of which I wont go into here.. as well, fuckit.. you've seen enough examples of THIS in the past to make up your own stories and I don't have a freaking clue in hell what I did to write about it anywaze.. so either way (a) I was very drunk, (b) I was very grinningly stupid, and (c) I was here from the hours of 3AM onwards ;)



before finally spilling out the doors all dazed and confused at around 4:30AM..



and at last into a waiting taxi and home by 5AM.. thus bringing to a braindamaging close yet another one of my fucked up gonzo weekends of live music insanity and beer fueled depravity (oh, and for all those who were wondering.. wouldnt'cha know it.. but all that fucked up alcohol I drank this weekend really DID cure that pesky little headcold.. yup.. the world has truly gone barking insane!.. eeeee! :) )

Previously on Spoz's Rant: Things To Do At A Ditch

:: Spoz 11:35 PM |
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